


when i said that i love you, i meant that i love you forever

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, Wingfic, but a bit to the left, technically not really but it's ninth century finland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: A line of fire is streaking its way through the dark. Patrik has seen the falling stars before, but there is something strange about this one. It’s so bright, bigger than any he has seen and does not disappear after in a blink.Patrik watches, entranced, as the falling star disappears into the blackness of the forest. A moment later, he hears the sound of breaking branches. A vibration runs through the earth.Somethinglanded.(it is not always the angels who fall to earth.)





	when i said that i love you, i meant that i love you forever

**Author's Note:**

> can you believe this came from me wanting Big Spoon Nikolaj to be a Thing. because i can't! i literally wrote this for myself and max two friends, and you know what? i'm valid.
> 
> me: hmm. how to write nikolaj as big spoon?
> 
> me @ myself: give him wings
> 
> me: oh holy shit (worldbuilds 13k of ancient norse/finnish fantasy lore)
> 
> i have... no idea how to tag this. basically nikolaj is creacher.
> 
> i put some warnings at the end in case violence bothers you. also? the long titles are really My Brand now.
> 
> characters with minor roles: sami niku, and sebastian and caroline ehlers
> 
> title from "keep on loving you" by reo speedwagon

_ Pain… Sharp, twisting… Burning…. _

_ Fire…. _

_ … _

_ Falling. _

Patrik wakes with a start. He raises a hand, presses it to his forehead. He thinks he was having a nightmare, but he can’t remember anything about it besides feeling like he was surrounded by flames. He sits up. His heart is racing too fast for him to go back to sleep.

The fire has burned down to little more than a few smoldering embers, and the one room of his house is quite cold. He throws off the furs and gets up, skin cringing at the wash of cold air. He ignores it and takes another log from the basket beside the hearth, placing it on top of the glowing embers. He pokes at it for a moment, waiting for the fire to catch. As soon as a tongue of yellow flame licks up the side of the log, Patrik stands and stretches, joints creaking from the cold. 

He is quite thirsty. He dresses quickly, pulling on layers so he doesn’t freeze, then takes a pail and steps outside.

The hinges on the door screech, loud in the stillness of the winter night. Patrik winces at the sound and walks a little ways away from the door to collect some snow. He scoops a few handfuls into his pail, then straightens and looks up at the sky. The moon is nearly full, its light reflecting off the snow. Patrik takes in one final breath of the crisp air before turning to go back indoors, then something catches his eye and he looks back to the skies.

A line of fire is streaking its way through the dark. Patrik has seen the falling stars before, but there is something strange about this one. It’s so bright, bigger than any he has seen and does not disappear after in a blink. 

Patrik watches, entranced, as the falling star disappears into the blackness of the forest. A moment later, he hears the sound of breaking branches. A vibration runs through the earth.

Something  _ landed.  _

Patrik hurries back into his house. He sets his pail near the fire and lifts his axe off the hook it rests on when not used for chopping wood.

Whatever landed in the woods could be dangerous. Patrik hesitates, looking down at the axe in his hands. If it is dangerous, it could bring harm to the village and to his family. If he can stop it before it hurts anyone, then he must.

Patrik goes back outside.

He does not bring a torch. He has been walking these woods since he was a small boy. He could navigate it blind and, on some occasions when he and his friends were feeling particularly adventurous, he has. The pale light of the moon is plenty.

Patrik picks his way over a frozen stream, careful on the icy stepping stones.

Based on where the light seemed to be heading, whatever it was probably landed in or near the birch grove and the pond.

As he approaches, a sharp odor stings his nose and eyes, like something is burning that was not meant to burn. Patrik tries to breathe through his mouth and picks up the pace. 

Passing through the clearing just before the ridge that leads to the grove, Patrik sees a plume of smoke hiding the stars. Small enough that it isn’t a forest fire, thank the gods. The thing that landed must still be burning. 

Patrik climbs the ridge, careful not to slip and fall. In winter, that can be deadly. 

When he finally crests the ridge, he stares in shock at the sight. 

The birch grove is gone; the trees flattened outward and scorched with soot. 

Much more cautiously now, Patrik descends the ridge to creep through the fallen trees. He is not a man used to  _ creeping _ and he decides he does not much like it. These are  _ his  _ woods, and he should not feel like a stranger. He hefts the axe. The weight of it comforts him little. Whatever it was that devastated the trees probably will not be too threatened by a woodcutter’s axe. 

Patrik takes a deep breath when he sees the center of the destruction. There is what appears to be a small crater, and he cannot see what’s inside. 

The crunch of snow under his boots seems suddenly much too loud.

Patrik chooses to be bold. He straightens his back and strides to the edge of the crater, ignoring all his instincts screaming at him to turn back and run home as fast as his legs can carry him. 

Patrik only listens to his instincts when they agree with him. He’s not dead yet.

He leans over and looks into the pit. 

And promptly gets a faceful of smoke. 

Stepping away to cough, fanning a hand in front of his face, Patrik watches the smoke dissipate as a soft breeze blows it away. 

He tries looking again, holding his breath. The bottom of the crater is dark, twisted shadows black against black on the soot-covered snow. 

The instant Patrik prepares to lean closer for a better look, something moves in the pit and a pair of glowing blue eyes look up at him. 

They blink, once. Very slowly.

Patrik stumbles back, his heart suddenly slamming against his ribs. He trips over a tree stump and lands hard on the frozen ground, knocking all the breath out of him. His axe, dropped the moment he fell, is a few inches out of reach. He scrambles to pick it up and stands, facing the pit.

For a heartbeat, everything is absolutely still.

Then a hand grasps the edge of the crater and the creature within slowly pulls itself out. 

The more of it Patrik sees, the more trouble he has believing that this is real. Surely, he will wake back in his bed to find that the fire has gone out and when he goes outside for water, he will not see any falling stars.

As it is, he raises his axe.

The thing spreads its batlike wings to their full extent, smoke still curling off the edges. Its fingers are tipped with viciously sharp, almost claw-like nails. Its face is hidden beneath the shadows of a steel helm, but Patrik can see its icy blue eyes glowing in the darkness. There are horns on the helmet.

_ “Demoni,”  _ Patrik breathes. He feels frightened for a moment, like all his nightmares from boyhood have come to life to stand before him. Then he thinks of his family, his friends, his village. He will not allow this thing to have them. He steps forward, axe held in front of him.

“Human,” the creature says. Its voice is raspy, probably from the smoke. It coughs.

Patrik falters, shocked by the sound—the  _ humanness _ of it. 

It growls at him.

“You should not have come here,” Patrik says. 

“Fool,” it says. “I did not mean to be here.”

“But you’re here anyway,” Patrik says, and it occurs to him that he is arguing with a demon. Judging by its frustrated snarl, he’s winning. Patrik inches closer another step.

“Are you going to try to kill me?” The more the creature speaks, the less raspy its voice gets. Patrik can make out a sentiment of incredulity. It also sounds male. 

“Are you not going to kill me?” Patrik counters. 

“You are making it very tempting,” says the creature thoughtfully. “I think perhaps I will.”

“Um,” is all Patrik has time to say before the creature leaps at him, wings snapping down to send it across the space in an instant.

A hand lands on Patrik’s chest before he can even think about swinging his axe, and he braces himself for death.

Nothing happens. 

“Is something supposed to be happening?” Patrik asks. 

Now that the creature is standing directly in front of him, Patrik notices that it’s actually quite short. The top of its horned helmet barely reaches his chin. 

“I don’t understand,” it says, sounding quite perplexed. “This usually works.”

It takes its hand away and turns its blue eyes to that. It shakes the hand. 

“Well,” Patrik says, “good try.” He does not point out that its sharp fingernails could probably do the trick on his throat. 

“I don’t understand,” the creature says, and its voice is much fainter. “I don’t—” Quite abruptly, it falls to the ground and lies awkwardly in the snow. Its wings look uncomfortably twisted. It looks very small, all of a sudden.

Patrik chews at his lower lip. 

He has a choice to make.

He looks over his shoulder, back the way he came. He looks back down at the creature’s prone form.

Patrik sighs and shoves the wooden shaft of the axe into his belt.

“I’m going to regret this,” he says, and he leans down to pick up the creature. 

He almost falls down again because of how light it is. Patrik wonders if it has hollow bones like birds, or if it is not made of flesh at all. Its wings are cumbersome, but considering that it tried to kill him, Patrik has few qualms about folding them in unnatural directions to make things easier for himself.

Patrik goes home. 

It takes much longer to walk back on account of the thing in his arms. He can’t really see the ground and has to guess at where to step. Fortunately, he manages not to fall or drop the creature. The sky is dim gray in the east when he returns.

He has to put it down once to open his door, and it makes a strange sound. Patrik stiffens, hand sliding around to close around his axe, but the thing doesn’t move. Patrik opens the door and carries it inside.

In the dim light of the fire, Patrik realizes that the creature is still covered in soot. He winces. He doesn’t really want to try cleaning it off outside in the cold, but looking closer, he realizes that the creature is clothed in some kind of armor, leather and steel and fur. Underneath, it should be relatively clean.

Patrik hopes that it doesn’t wake up while he’s taking its clothes off. It might get angry.

Still, he also doesn’t want soot all over his house, so he gets to work.

He takes off the creature’s boots first. Unlike its hands, the creature has normal, human-looking feet. If a little bony. There is a truly excessive amount of laces and buckles on its clothes, and Patrik’s cold-stiff fingers make slow work of it. The creature is well and truly unconscious, so it stays limp and silent with every piece of armor Patrik takes off. It’s strange; underneath its armor, and past the wings and claws, it looks almost human.

Patrik looks up hesitantly at the creature’s head. Its outer layers have all been removed and tucked away into a corner, so it’s dressed only in a thin flax shirt and woolen trousers. Both are relatively soot free, so Patrik lifts it off the floor and places it on his bed. He considers the helmet.

He’s relatively sure now that the horns are not, in fact, an artistic choice by the maker and are actually growing out of its skull. He gets his hands around the metal and, with some careful wiggling, manages to pry it off.

Patrik looks at the creature’s face for the first time.

His strange eyes—because the creature is a man, despite his unusual attributes—are closed, his blond eyelashes trembling as though he is trying very hard to wake up. He has a sharp face, but Patrik thinks its edges are somewhat softened in sleep.

Two horns, ribbed and light brown like a goat’s, curve out from his blond hair.

He certainly doesn’t have a very demonic  _ face. _

Patrik finds himself thinking that he’s actually rather handsome, in a sharp, dangerous sort of way, and immediately goes to sit by the fire and reconsider some of his life choices.

Eventually, that gets boring because Patrik doesn’t like to think about his mistakes, so he takes the pail of half-melted snow and places some of it into the kettle to boil. He adds a couple more logs, because at this point he very much doubts he will be able to go back to sleep. 

He takes a cup and pours some of the hot water into it, then pours the rest into the biggest bowl he can find. Once his cup has mostly stopped steaming, he drinks it all in one go and relishes the warmth that spreads through him. 

Looking back at the creature’s sleeping form, Patrik studies his hands. He obviously hadn’t been wearing gloves because the skin is black with soot. Patrik looks at his clean water, then back at his hands, then at his clean furs. He sighs.

It takes some maneuvering, considering the creature is as limp as a sack of potatoes, but Patrik eventually gets him rolled over without smacking himself in the face with his wings, then pulls his arms until they’re dangling over the side of the bed. Patrik sits down, crossing his legs with the bowl in his lap and an old rag in his hand. He takes one of the creature’s hands, mindful of his sharp nails, and wets the rag before scrubbing it over his skin.

The soot washes off in unpleasant, grayish rivulets. Patrik rubs harder at the backs and palms of his hands, trying to be gentler on the fingers. He doesn’t know if he  _ could  _ break his fingers, but he would rather not risk it. 

He’s almost done, looking down as he rinses the cloth again, and then there’s something pressed to his throat. It pushes under his chin before drawing away and he realizes that it was one of the creature’s horns. Now, that horn is no longer touching him and instead he is staring directly into the creature’s eyes. His face is mere inches away.

Patrik releases his hand.

His eyes are no longer glowing and look like normal, if pale, blue eyes. The eyes narrow. Slowly, the creature pushes itself up to kneel on the bed.

“You are the one who tried to kill me,” he says. His voice sounds normal now, no longer like he’s been breathing smoke straight from a chimney. He has a strange accent. Now that the helmet is gone and he is in better light, Patrik can see that his canines are long and sharp, almost like a wolf’s.

“I wasn’t really trying,” Patrik says mildly, kind of insulted. Really, the nerve. “You’re the one who fell out of the sky and then tried to kill me with magic before I even introduced myself.”

“Well—” he starts.

“Patrik,” Patrik interrupts. “That’s my name. I’d prefer it if you didn’t kill me.”

“You are very rude,” the creature tells him. He sounds much less murderous than he did earlier, so Patrik decides that he was probably just stressed from falling out of the sky while on fire.

“And you have wings and horns,” Patrik says. “I think I’m allowed to be prepared for self-defence.” Relatively confident that the creature is not going to kill him, Patrik slides back and stands, then goes to sit on a chair. Out of reach of the claws.

“Why am I in this crude dwelling,” the creature snaps, clearly tired of Patrik not cowering in fear. Insulting his house is not the best way to go about that.

“Would you prefer it if I put you back where I found you?” Patrik asks, ignoring the fact that the creature could probably kill him with relative ease now that he’s awake. Patrik sighs. “Are you going to be annoying forever?” 

“Um.” The creature gapes at him, clearly speechless. His hands clench and unclench by his sides, like he can’t decide if killing Patrik is worth it or not. He seems to notice his hands, the smudged black lines on them where Patrik was unable to finish cleaning them. “Did you… wash my hands?” He blinks.

“Yes,” Patrik says. “I did not want you to get soot all over my bed.” The creature pokes at the furs. He doesn’t look very convinced about the fact that it’s a bed. “Do you have a name, or should I continue to call you  _ demoni?”  _

“Of course I have a name.” He sneers and does not elaborate. Patrik leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, leveling an expectant look at him. His hands twitch again. “You may call me Nikolaj,” he says, deflating. He ruffles his wings before folding them tightly against his back.

“I may, may I?” Patrik raises an eyebrow. 

Nikolaj scowls at him, but he seems much less intimidating than he did before. Out of his armor, his clothes hanging loose around him, he looks uncertain and uncomfortable. He draws his knees in close to his chest and wraps his arms around them, then rests his chin on his knees. He looks… defensive. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Patrik says, confused by the unexpected display. He’s not sure why Nikolaj is acting like this at all, because Patrik thinks Nikolaj would have a fair chance at beating him in a fight, even without any magic.

“I am not frightened of  _ you,” _ Nikolaj spits, as though Patrik has insulted him. “If you try to attack me, I will kill you.” He curls his lip, showing off his fangs.

Patrik makes a face back. At Nikolaj’s shocked expression, Patrik decides to make it his mission to surprise him as much as possible. His surprised face is very endearing.

“Why are you like this?” Nikolaj asks plaintively. “You are very strange and irritating. I don’t understand.”

“As opposed to running and hiding in terror at the sight of you?” Patrik shakes his head. “You don’t scare me. You tried to kill me, yes, but you failed and you have not tried again. You could have killed me many times between then and now, but here I am. I am choosing to believe that you are not going to kill me at all.”

“I could,” Nikolaj mutters, but it is even less convincing than the last time he said it.

“You could,” Patrik agrees. “Will you?” He looks directly at Nikolaj, looking for the answer in his eyes as much as in his words.

“No,” says Nikolaj. He looks like he means to say more, but he sighs and shakes his head. 

“So.” Patrik leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Can you tell me why you are here?”

Nikolaj bites his lip, which Patrik feels briefly concerned about until he realizes that Nikolaj does it in such a way that his fangs are not actually digging into his skin. 

“It was an accident,” Nikolaj says. “I am not meant to be here. My home is far away, across the sea to the west and to the south of the lands there. I have been—cast out.” His voice catches.

Patrik frowns. He is not sure what Nikolaj is, but he would not have guessed someone in exile. 

“You have been banished?” Patrik asks.

Nikolaj scoffs.

“No,” he says. “We do not get  _ banishments. _ We  _ die _ for failure. I was defeated in battle, thrown into this place. If I return, my disgrace will be…” Nikolaj looks away and stares into the flames. Patrik watches the flames dance in his eyes, the fire turning blue into gold. He does not continue.

“Then do not return,” Patrik says.

Nikolaj looks at him incredulously.

“You do not understand,” he says, but there is no venom left in his voice. He sounds sad, small, and very, very lonely. “There are others who may come for me. If not those who bested me, then my own people will come. If I go back to face them, perhaps my people will be merciful.” His tone makes it seem like he wishes to convince himself.

“You do not sound certain,” Patrik points out. “There have been others punished for failure before you? What were their punishments?” 

Nikolaj’s face pales slightly. He curls tighter into himself, flexing a hand in front of him. He examines it for a moment, then wraps it around his knee. 

“They were all killed,” he says shortly, numbly. “Tortured, branded as cowards, then killed.”

Patrik feels his gorge rise and swallows hard.

“Then you must stay,” Patrik says, hoping the firmness in his voice hides any uncertainty. “Or at least fly somewhere else, somewhere far away.” 

“That would make things easier,” Nikolaj murmurs, glancing towards the window and into the first light of dawn like he would love nothing more than to spread his wings and fly towards the horizon as fast as he can. “But it is impossible. There are others in such places. Not all are friendly.”

Patrik raises an eyebrow.

“Others?”

“Like myself.” Nikolaj rubs a hand over his left horn. Patrik tries not to get distracted. “In this place, they are… not asleep, but near to it. They are the trees and the streams and the rocks. They do not fly or fight like me and my people, or our enemies. They are slow and cold and—“ Nikolaj struggles to find the word. “They are  _ forever, _ or as near to it as possible.”

Patrik nods slowly, not sure he understands. 

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Nikolaj says. “When you go into the forest, you hear them speaking to one another. You know you are not alone.” The intense expression on his face surprises Patrik. He seems certain that Patrik can hear the forest speaking, but he’s never—

Or perhaps he has.

Patrik thinks of all the times he has gone into the forest alone to hunt or to gather firewood. The rest of his village used to warn him of the dangers of the forest, but nothing ever happened to him. He always thought he was simply a good woodsman, good at tracking and reading the land. Perhaps it has always been more than that.

“Yes,” Patrik says. His wonder must be obvious. “It is not—it is so subtle, and yet.” He does not know how to continue and he shakes his head. He looks at the wall of his house, where on the other side is the forest. 

Nikolaj is smiling at him. 

Patrik feels his heart flip in his chest. 

“You can feel their magic,” Nikolaj says softly. “They speak with you.” Nikolaj lets himself unfold. He crosses his legs, hands loosely curled over his ankles. His wings are less tightly pressed against himself, instead draping behind him more comfortably. Patrik realizes that he must trust the judgement of the forest, and now he trusts Patrik.

“I never knew there was such a force,” Patrik admits. “All the stories, of course, but those always seem to be no more than stories.” 

“Such it is all across the world.” Nikolaj has a faraway expression on his face. “Your stories are not all accurate, of course. There are many who would be hostile to an intruder like me.” When Nikolaj shrugs, his wings rise and fall slightly in a parody of flight.

“Then why wasn’t the forest angry?” Patrik asks. “You did fall to the ground in a great burst of flames and destroy some of it.”

“It is as I said,” Nikolaj says, sounding impatient, “this forest is old. The forest has survived harm before, and it knows it will be here long after I am gone. Death is no stranger in the winter. New growth will return in the spring, and the trees will one day come back.” He turns his hands palms-up in his lap and looks down at them. “Forests are forgiving,” Nikolaj says. “Others are not.” He looks up at Patrik again, his eyes solemn. “Do you see now why I have no place to go?”

“Then you will stay here,” Patrik tells him in a tone that brooks no argument. Of course, inviting the person who tried to kill him less than three hours ago to stay and live with him may not be Patrik’s wisest idea, but it certainly is not the worst idea he has had tonight. Besides, he believes Nikolaj is trustworthy despite their first encounter. Patrik can hardly blame him for lashing out, and he has done nothing since except make unconvincing threats.

He has not even made one of those in a while.

“Stay and do what?” It is not a  _ no.  _ “I doubt your people are all as brave as you.” Patrik smiles. “I mean, um, foolish.” Patrik’s smile widens into a grin and Nikolaj scowls at him, then stares at his hands again. The tips of his ears are pink.

“The villagers do not have to know,” Patrik says, sparing Nikolaj of well-deserved teasing. “If the forest does not mind, you could hunt there. There is enough space there that it would be difficult for someone to find you by accident.” 

“Hunt,” Nikolaj says slowly. He flexes his fingers. “I am used to using my magic to hunt. Without it, I am  _ useless.”  _ He looks angry, though Patrik cannot tell if he is angry with himself or those who did this to him.

“That’s not fair,” Patrik says. “I have no magic, but I am a great hunter.” He nods to his bow where it hangs on the wall, the half-fletched arrows lying on the table for him to finish later.

“Modest as well.” Still, Nikolaj looks a little better, so Patrik smiles again, softer this time.

“I can teach you to use a bow,” Patrik says. “There are many places in the woods to practice. I can get you your own bow as well so you don’t need to borrow mine all the time.”

Nikolaj dips his head, then looks back up with an almost  _ shy _ smile.

“That would be good.” Nikolaj’s cheeks are pink. “Thank you,” he adds and even though he looks like he wishes he wasn’t thanking a human, Patrik can’t help but believe his reluctance is mostly an act at this point. 

“It’s going to be fun,” Patrik tells him.

Nikolaj just raises an eyebrow.

* * *

“Why are you so awful at this?” Patrik asks, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile when Nikolaj turns around to glare at him. 

The deer finally disappears beneath the shadows of the trees. Nikolaj’s arrow is stuck quite firmly into a young pine.

“Aiming is difficult,” Nikolaj whines. He scowls at the bow in his hand like he would not mind snapping it over his knee or perhaps using it as kindling.

“Of course it is,” Patrik says. He steps away from the tree and into Nikolaj’s space to take the bow from him before he does something foolish. “That is why you have to practice.”

Nikolaj unfolds his wings, stretching them out, then folds them against his back.

“Why can’t I fly and hunt?” Nikolaj asks. “I’m good at flying and my wings get stiff from standing around all day.”

“Shooting deer is hard enough when you are standing still,” Patrik reminds him, but he steps back a few paces and gives Nikolaj a look. He knows that Nikolaj is a fighter, not used to standing and waiting all the time. It is difficult to forget that Nikolaj is not of this world, but when he flies, he looks like he  _ belongs. _

Nikolaj tilts his head up and studies the sky. There are gray clouds above them, heavy with snow, but the air is clear and still for now. He raises his wings again.

“I will not be long,” Nikolaj says, looking back at Patrik. His eyes are wild, a hint of that glow from that first night last week just barely visible. “No sense getting caught in the storm.”

“Go on,” Patrik says, laughing, and Nikolaj snaps his wings down and leaps into the air.

Patrik loves to watch him fly.

Nikolaj has to beat his wings hard to get above the trees, but once he is in the clear, he swoops and glides like he has forgotten all his earlier frustration with hunting. He flies up, and up, and up, until he is little more than a speck, then he folds his wings and dives, plummeting from the sky. 

Even though he knows this game, Patrik still tenses. 

At the last possible instant, Nikolaj opens his wings and slows his fall. He makes to land near Patrik, but he stumbles, still laughing a little bit. Patrik catches him around the waist, grinning down at him.

“Whoa,” Nikolaj says, steadying himself against Patrik’s chest. His cheeks are flushed from flying and his nose is red with the cold.

“Careful,” Patrik murmurs. His hands are still on Nikolaj’s waist. 

“I may have gotten carried away,” Nikolaj admits, straightening. Patrik lets go of him and tries not to miss the way he’d felt so warm even through his clothes. 

“Let’s go home,” Patrik says. His voice feels too loud among the quiet trees.

Nikolaj gets his arrow and follows him through the forest as the first snowflakes start to fall. 

It has only been one week since Nikolaj agreed to stay and not face his certain death. He has been doing his best to learn how to pull his weight by learning to cook, and he has an uncanny sense for where the animals are, but he is not very good at actually hunting just yet. With a bow, at least—but killing with claws and teeth is always much messier. Hiding him from the villagers is easier than Patrik expected. He does live on the very edge of the village, but he expected more people to ask him about his strange visitor.

Of course, that may change come spring. Winter is always slow for travelers, and people tend to avoid leaving their homes unless they must. Once the thaw sets in, Patrik will help Nikolaj build himself a home deeper in the woods, somewhere that no errant travelers should stumble across.

For now, at least, there is some peace. Early in the morning and late at night, Nikolaj is able to leave the house without fear of being seen and venture into the woods for a few hours. Whatever might happen if someone  _ does _ see him, well. It hardly bears thinking about.

Patrik checks the trap he had set when they had left that morning. There is a rabbit in it, little more than sinew and bone, but better than nothing. Spring will bring more plentiful food and it will be easier to teach Nikolaj how to hunt. He collects the rabbit, undoes the trap, and leads Nikolaj back home.

The sun is almost set, though it is hard to tell through the clouds, and the snow is getting heavier by the minute. By the time they make it through the door, both of them have snow melting in their hair. The fire is out and it is quite cold, even out of the wind.

Nikolaj piles some logs and branches in the fireplace while Patrik searches for his knives. He has quite a knack for starting fires, and soon enough there is a cheery blaze filling the house with warmth. Patrik finally feels the cold that had settled deep in his skin melt away and he removes his outer layers before settling in to show Nikolaj how to prepare a rabbit.

He rolls up his sleeves and holds the dead rabbit over a bucket. He’ll put the parts they don’t eat in there and bury them tomorrow when the snow stops. Nikolaj leaves the fire and pulls a chair over so he can sit across from Patrik. Patrik flips the knife in his hand so that he is holding the blade, the bone hilt extended towards Nikolaj.

Nikolaj takes it hesitantly.

“Here,” Patrik says, tracing a finger across different parts of the rabbit. “Try to do it in one motion, as clean as you can.”

Nikolaj brushes the fingers of his free hand over the rabbit where it lies on a rough wooden board on top of the table. He closes his eyes and his lips move for a moment, but Patrik doesn’t know what he’s saying.

There is no hesitation in Nikolaj’s movements as he follows Patrik’s instructions. When he is finished, Patrik helps him dump the bloody excess into the bucket before they wash up a bit to prepare it for eating.

Patrik carries the bucket outside to pile snow into it and tucks it under the overhang of the roof so it isn’t buried in the night. He goes back inside and pauses for a moment. Nikolaj is standing with his back turned, leaning over the dish he is preparing. His wings are only loosely folded, lacking the tension of that first day. He shifts his weight and Patrik watches as his wings sway gently before settling back into place. 

Swallowing hard, Patrik looks away. His mouth feels dry.

Nikolaj turns slightly, looking over his shoulder.

“Help me with the stew?” he asks. He has become fairly competent at putting together edible meals in a relatively short time, but sometimes it seems like he simply enjoys Patrik being around and helping. It’s not like Patrik minds. 

They work together in comfortable silence until the stew is ready to be cooked. Patrik thinks fleetingly that it’s strange how quickly the two of them have become accustomed to each other, how well they get along now that neither of them is overly interested in killing the other anymore.

While the stew simmers, Nikolaj straddles a chair backwards and rolls his shoulders, stretching out his wings as much as he can before resting his chin on the back of the chair. He closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. Since the helmet came off, Nikolaj’s hair has revealed itself to be fluffy and soft-looking around his horns. Patrik often has to talk himself out of touching it. 

It’s hard not to, sometimes. Especially times like now, when Nikolaj is tired from a day of hunting and flying, relaxed and warm, his hair glowing in the light of the fire. 

Patrik distracts himself by lighting a couple candles, then tries to fletch some more arrows before the stew is finished. It’s hard to focus with Nikolaj right there. Patrik runs his thumb along the edge of a feather and wonders how Nikolaj would react if he knew what Patrik thinks about. He doesn’t think Nikolaj would kill or even maim him—Patrik has explained many times what conditions are acceptable for killing and maiming in human society, and Nikolaj at least pretends to understand—but that is not much of a standard. 

“Are you all right?” 

Patrik blinks. He realizes he has been running his index finger up and down the shaft of the arrow and staring into space, lost in thought. Nikolaj is watching him, eyes half-lidded and sleepy. 

“Fine,” Patrik says. “Only thinking.” 

Nikolaj hums wordlessly and closes his eyes again. Patrik takes a moment and just looks at him, examining the shape of his cheekbones and his jaw, the arch of his eyebrows, the curve of his mouth, the line of his nose. He lets himself look at Nikolaj’s horns, wonders what they would feel like under his hands, and then turns his eyes to his wings, massive, dark and powerful. Patrik’s heart races.

Nikolaj’s nose twitches.

“Stew is done,” he mumbles, but he stays where he is. He opens an eye, just a crack, and looks at Patrik silently.

“Lazy,” Patrik informs him, and pokes his shoulder on the way by. Nikolaj twitches, but he does get up and get a pair of wooden bowls while Patrik lifts the stew away from the fire.

As has been the case every day, Patrik has a brief feeling of surrealism as he and Nikolaj sit down to eat. If he looks past Nikolaj’s… inhuman features, Nikolaj could be a regular man of perhaps twenty-five, sharp features softened by the golden light of the candles. Patrik tries to focus on his stew.

The rabbit meat is tough and rangy, but he eats all of it and stares down at his bowl the whole time.

He catches Nikolaj looking at him strangely when he gets up to wash his bowl, but neither of them say anything.

Patrik is tired, but he spends a while working on his arrows while Nikolaj tries to repair a tear in his woolen trousers using one of Patrik’s needles. Eventually, Nikolaj puts down his project and curls up in Patrik’s bed, pulling one of the furs over him and his back almost pressed to the wall. Patrik watches him breathe in slowly, then exhale. His wings are wrapped around himself and though his face is not really visible, Patrik can tell that he has fallen asleep. 

For a moment, Patrik pictures Nikolaj hanging upside down with his wings around himself like this, as though he were an oversized bat. He smiles to himself.

Tidying up his arrows, Patrik tries not to make too much noise. Nikolaj has had a long day and he deserves his rest. Once everything is put away as neatly as he can be bothered, Patrik lies down beside Nikolaj, pulling a sheepskin blanket over himself. He watches the fire until he falls asleep.

* * *

Patrik gets used to waking up with Nikolaj curled up against him over the weeks they spend together. Nikolaj always falls asleep with his back against the wall, but at some point in the night he gravitates closer to Patrik and burrows into his side or his back. Sometimes, Patrik wakes up with a leathery wing almost smothering him.    


The first time it happened, he fell out of the bed. Since then, he usually shoves it away and goes back to sleep.

Besides, it isn’t like he minds. The house gets cold at night, especially nearest morning when the fire has gone out. With Nikolaj plastered to his back, the freezing mornings get a lot more tolerable. Patrik no longer feels like he has to sprint to the fireplace and light a fire, shivering all the while. He can actually  _ enjoy _ the feeling of waking up in the winter.

On the days when Nikolaj wakes up first, he never seems to notice anything strange about their situation. In fact, he usually snuggles closer and presses his face into Patrik’s shoulder. 

It’s a bit of a relief to Patrik, the fact that Nikolaj always ends up behind him. He does not want to risk being awakened by an errant horn to the throat, so it all works out well enough. Nikolaj is comfortable, and Patrik is not maimed or killed.

The problem is that Patrik is getting worryingly used to it.

Of course, these warm mornings will not last forever. Winter is almost over now. Patrik can nearly smell the thaw, and Nikolaj tells him that the trees are waking up from their half-asleep winter states. Soon, Patrik will need to help Nikolaj build a place of his own. They’ve already found a good spot on the shores of a small lake a few leagues away from the village. Nikolaj spotted it while flying and deemed it perfect.

Nikolaj has improved markedly at hunting. His wings allow him to fly high into the trees to wait, crouched on a branch, until a deer passes by. His aim is much better as well. 

Patrik does not worry that Nikolaj will be unable to fend for himself. He is a strong fighter, a good hunter, and can hide in the woods so well that Patrik can never find him unless Nikolaj wants him to.

That doesn’t keep him from waking up in the middle of the night, Nikolaj’s stubbled cheek rough against his bare shoulder, and staring up at the ceiling through the darkness, wondering what would happen if Nikolaj’s people came looking for him. If they would kill him here. How Patrik knows he would try to protect him, no matter how powerless he may be as a human against demons.

Patrik always wraps an arm around Nikolaj’s shoulders and pulls him closer on nights like that.

This morning, he wakes up with Nikolaj’s arm slung around his waist. Nikolaj’s hair tickles at the back of his neck, his breath warm against Patrik’s skin. Patrik untangles himself, trying to ignore the soft noise of displeasure Nikolaj makes, and he gets up to light the fire. 

Nikolaj shifts over, fisting a hand into the warm furs that Patrik leaves behind. He pushes his face into the blankets. 

Patrik sits cross-legged on the floor as the fire spreads over the wood, and he leans back on his hands and closes his eyes. He listens to the snapping of the wood as it burns, breathes in the sharpness of the smoke and sees the red light flicker behind his closed eyes. 

He can hear Nikolaj’s wings rustling as he moves around in bed, but he does not open his eyes. He breathes in slowly, trying to calm his mind.

“Was it the dream again?” Nikolaj asks. 

“What?” Patrik turns to face him. Nikolaj is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking carefully at Patrik. “What dream?”

“You always go tense in the darkest hour of the night,” Nikolaj tells him. He has a crease between his eyebrows and Patrik wants nothing more than to smooth it out again. “You never move, but your breathing gets faster.” Nikolaj rests a hand over his own chest. “I can feel your heart beating too fast. So I thought it would be a nightmare.” 

“No, I….” Patrik turns back to the fire and frowns. “I haven’t been able to remember dreaming since you arrived. That night was the last dream I’ve had in,” Patrik counts in his head, “almost two full moons.” He shakes his head. It is unusual, especially that Nikolaj tells him it has been happening every night. “That dream was strange,” he says. “I can’t remember anything except the feeling, like I was burning.” He does not need to say that Nikolaj was falling to the ground aflame at that exact moment. He can see the realization on Nikolaj’s face.

“You think your dream was, what, me?” Nikolaj’s face is pale. “That you saw what I saw, felt what I felt?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Patrik says, “but it sounds like that’s what you think.” 

“I.” Nikolaj blinks rapidly. He scowls suddenly, glaring at Patrik in a way that he hasn’t done since their very first days living together. “I have to go,” he says, his voice tight and angry. He gets up and walks stiffly to the door. His wings are trembling with tension and he steps outside barefoot, still dressed only in his loose sleeping clothes. 

“Nikolaj!” Patrik scrambles upright and follows him out the door. “Nikolaj, wait!”

Nikolaj does not turn around, does not make a sound to acknowledge that he has even heard Patrik speak. Instead, standing ankle-deep in the snow, he crouches low and launches himself into the air. The force of the wind from his wings knocks Patrik down. Even though his landing is cushioned by the snow, Patrik  _ hurts, _ a sharp and twisting pain in his chest. 

When he looks up at the sky again, Nikolaj is gone.

Patrik almost can’t believe it at first, the emptiness of the sky and the silence. He leans up on his elbows, frantically searching for a sign,  _ anything _ that can tell him where Nikolaj is. Nothing happens for a very long time, and it continues to not happen as Patrik gets out of the snow and goes back inside. 

He stares at the fire until his damp clothes start to feel too cold and uncomfortable and he changes into his hunting gear. 

He is  _ not _ going to look for Nikolaj. He needs food, nothing more. 

Patrik looks at the sky one last time before he steps under the trees.

He is useless today. His hands won’t stop shaking enough for him to properly aim an arrow and tying knots for snares is impossible.

Still, he refuses to go back. Instead, he forges deeper and deeper into the forest as the sun rises higher in the sky and eventually begins its slow descent.

_ Maybe he’s out here,  _ Patrik thinks, then shoves the thought down. He  _ isn’t _ looking for Nikolaj. 

Patrik tells himself it’s an accident when his long, winding route back home takes him through the ruined birch grove.

The tree trunks themselves have long since been buried under the snow, only roots and branches still jutting towards the sky like long, bony fingers. A chill runs up Patrik’s spine. He shakes it off. They’re only trees, nothing more.

_ They are forever, _ Nikolaj had said.

“Stop thinking about him,” Patrik tells himself. He winces at how loud his voice sounds in the silence of the clearing. Nikolaj is gone. He is probably never coming back. Perhaps he has left to find a new forest, maybe even another human who will look after him and help him and fall—

A branch snaps.

Patrik looks up sharply, bow ready.

There is a shadow among the trees. It is moving slowly but deliberately towards Patrik. 

“Nikolaj?” he calls. There is no reply, but the shape starts moving faster. It has an inhuman, loping gait, and Patrik realizes with horror that it is not human at all. “Bear,” he breathes and his arrows feel as useless as a bundle of twigs. 

He will not roll over and die, and he knows he cannot outrun a bear through the forest. He may not be able to kill a bear with his arrows before it can get to him, but he can try to discourage it.

Patrik lifts his bow, draws back the string and aims, looking down the shaft of the arrow and sees the bear finally take a clear form. The bear growls, a deep rumbling sound. It looks hungry and young—Patrik guesses that it did not store enough food for its hibernation and woke up starving. The reason does not matter, because right now it wants to eat Patrik.

He breathes in.

He breathes out.

He lets the arrow fly. 

The arrow sails over the bear, missing by a matter of inches. Patrik curses, stumbling back a few steps. His fingers are numb and stiff as he tries to find another arrow.

He looks back up and sees the bear only a few paces away. Patrik raises his bow, sick with hopelessness, the bear’s gleaming teeth so close, and—

Nikolaj lands in front of him, hard, his wings spread to their full extent. Patrik hears him snarl.

The bear yelps in alarm, its claws scrabbling for purchase against the slippery ground, then it turns and runs back the way it came. Nikolaj’s wings remain raised until the bear is out of sight, then he wavers slightly and his knees buckle. 

Patrik does not even think before reaching out to catch him. Nikolaj sags against him, body limp and cold. He shivers almost violently. His hair is crusted with frost and a thin layer of ice coats his horns as well. His lips are blue.

“‘trik,” Nikolaj murmurs, voice unsteady. “‘m cold.” 

Carrying Nikolaj back home feels disturbingly familiar. This time, Patrik adjusts him in his arms so that his wings are folded more comfortably, his head resting against Patrik’s chest. The soft press of one of his horns against Patrik’s skin no longer feels like a threat. 

What really frightens Patrik right now is the way that Nikolaj has stopped shivering and is barely awake, his eyes rolled back in his head and almost shut. He’s always been light, but he has never felt  _ breakable _ before.

“Stay with me,” Patrik says, speeding up until he’s almost running. He knows the dangers of running through the snowy woods, though, and he curses that he can’t go faster. “Don’t go to sleep, Nikolaj,” Patrik pleads, “you can’t die like this.” 

Nikolaj does not answer.

Patrik looks around frantically. There is still half a league at best to go until he gets home and can warm Nikolaj properly. He tries to move faster.

That’s when his foot catches on a rock and he trips. He’s able to twist as he falls so that Nikolaj lands on top of him. He lies on the ground for a moment, stunned and trying to catch his breath.

Nikolaj is not moving. 

Trying to stand sends a jolt of pain through Patrik’s ankle.  _ Sprained.  _ He can probably still make it if he ignores the pain. He will do it. He has to. He gets himself on one knee, braced to push himself to standing once he has Nikolaj in his arms again, but Nikolaj is still and silent on the ground. 

“Nikolaj?” Patrik would usually hate the tremor in his voice, but right now terror has closed his throat. Cold dread rises in his chest and he pulls Nikolaj close. 

He is not breathing. 

Patrik’s heart drops. He peels off a glove and presses his fingers against Nikolaj’s throat, seeking his heartbeat. He knows Nikolaj’s heartbeat as well as his own by now. There’s no chance he will miss it.

But there is  _ nothing.  _

Patrik wants to scream, wants to sob, but he can’t do anything except let out a terrible whining noise. He feels like something is squeezing his throat and his chest so tightly that he can hardly breathe. He touches Nikolaj’s face, his neck, his hair. 

_ Come back,  _ he tries to shout.  _ Don’t leave me.  _ Only a whimper comes out. 

The sun dips down behind the trees and Patrik is alone with the darkness and Nikolaj’s body. 

_ I love you,  _ he wants to say, and thinking that is enough for the tightness in Patrik’s chest to loosen and he starts to cry. He curls over Nikolaj’s body, a hand still behind his head even though Nikolaj does not need support anymore. He shakes with the force of his sobs, hot tears burning tracks down his cheeks before freezing at his jaw.

Patrik is many seasons removed from boyhood now, but he feels more than ever like the small, lonely child he used to be. 

Wind rustles through the highest branches of the trees, sending a whisper of noise down to the ground. Patrik ignores it, trying to muffle the sound of his grief into one hand. The wind rustles again, almost insistently.

Patrik looks up slowly at the shadowy trees. They all seem to be leaning towards him.

“Can you save him?” Patrik asks, his voice cracking and uncertain. “Please?” The trees rustle again. “Please, I can’t understand—” Patrik’s voice breaks and he looks down at Nikolaj’s face. He brushes a thumb over his cheek where one of Patrik’s tears landed earlier, but it has already frozen. “I need him back.”

_ You blame yourself,  _ a slow, deep voice says. Patrik looks around, but there is nobody there.  _ We are here, child,  _ the voice says again. _ We are the forest.  _

“Can you bring him back?” Patrik’s voice has taken on an unfamiliar pleading tone. 

_ It will come at a cost to us,  _ the voice says, though the tone remains as emotionless as always. 

“I’ll give you anything,” Patrik promises.

_ Oh, dear child,  _ says the voice of the forest,  _ you already have.  _

There is a strange rushing feeling, as though the wind were rushing through the forest from all directions and converging on Patrik. He closes his eyes against it and holds Nikolaj tight. 

Finally, the wind dies down. Patrik slowly opens his eyes and sees that the trees have returned to their normal, upright positions, but something about them is different. Some of them seem… withered, almost.

“Patrik,” Nikolaj whispers. Patrik looks down and sees Nikolaj blinking his eyes open, a confused expression on his face. “Where—”

Patrik kisses him.

It’s messy and too rough, their noses knock together and Patrik has to be careful of Nikolaj’s pointed canines, but Nikolaj’s lips are soft and  _ warm _ and when he kisses back, it’s better than anything Patrik has ever felt. Nikolaj’s hand wraps loosely around Patrik’s upper arm, mindful of his claw-like nails. Patrik runs a hand up the side of Nikolaj’s neck and strokes his fingers through Nikolaj’s hair. Nikolaj shudders and lets his fangs scrape over Patrik’s lower lip, just the tiniest bit. Patrik tenses and tightens his hand in Nikolaj’s hair.

Nikolaj makes a soft noise against his mouth and he squeezes Patrik’s arm. Patrik finally draws away, stroking his thumb over Nikolaj’s mouth. Nikolaj stares up at him, dazed. 

“We should go home.” Patrik keeps his voice soft. Anything else feels like it would ruin the moment. Nikolaj nods slowly. Patrik moves to get up and realizes with a start that his ankle is fine. Not even the slightest ghost of an ache. He rests a hand against one of the trees. “Thank you,” he whispers.

He carries Nikolaj the rest of the way home despite Nikolaj’s halfhearted protests insisting that he’s alright. Nikolaj does not seem to mind, based on the way he winds his arms around Patrik’s neck and holds on.

Patrik manages to open the door without putting Nikolaj down, then he kicks it shut and carries Nikolaj to the bed. He tries to set him down gently, but instead Nikolaj tightens his grip and pulls Patrik down with him. Even though his wings must be uncomfortable in this position, Nikolaj laughs and pulls Patrik down to kiss him warmly. 

“Niky,” Patrik says, smiling at the bemused expression on Nikolaj’s face at the nickname. He brushes his fingers through Nikolaj’s fluffy hair. “Please never run away from me again.” 

“I’m sorry,” Nikolaj says. He looks ashamed, staring over Patrik’s shoulder at the ceiling. “I should not have done that. I was scared of what your dreams meant.”

“What do they mean,” Patrik asks softly, pressing his lips softly to Nikolaj’s jaw. Nikolaj’s breath hitches. 

“Among my people,” Nikolaj says, trying very hard to ignore Patrik’s kisses against the soft skin of his throat, “we have what are called the, um. Ah, the Intertwined.” He lets his head fall back, curling his hand around the back of Patrik’s neck enough that Patrik can feel the bite of his claws on his skin. “People whose fates are so connected that through our magic, our minds can become connected.” 

“What, you share one mind?” Patrik stops kissing his neck to raise a disbelieving eyebrow at Nikolaj. 

“No,” Nikolaj says. “More like,” he pauses, trying to find the words, “feelings. Dreams. Never clear thoughts.”

“Dreams,” Patrik says. “So you and I—we are like these Intertwined?”

“In a way,” Nikolaj says. “I have never heard of a human being one, though. It has never happened before. It may be only flashes of my memories in your dreams because you have such little magic.” He shakes his head. Patrik kisses his forehead and watches him frown.

“Well,” Patrik drops a kiss to the tip of Nikolaj’s nose, “I am glad you came back.” He cups Nikolaj’s cheek and tilts his head to kiss him properly, a gentle press of lips.

“So am I,” Nikolaj says. “So am I.”

They fall asleep together that night, Nikolaj stripped out of his frozen clothes and curled against Patrik’s back beneath the furs as the fire crackles in the hearth. 

As he slips into sleep, Patrik feels Nikolaj wrap his hand around Patrik’s own and rest them over his heart. 

He does not dream of fire tonight.

* * *

The next morning, Patrik turns to study Nikolaj’s sleeping face. He brushes his thumb lightly over an eyebrow, a cheekbone, his lower lip. Nikolaj’s nose wrinkles as though the touch tickles and Patrik smiles. Nikolaj keeps his eyes closed, though his breathing changes and Patrik is pretty sure he is awake. 

Only when the soft yellow light of the sunrise filters into the room does Nikolaj open his eyes. Patrik props himself up on his elbow and drags his fingers down Nikolaj’s cheek. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss him softly. They exchange slow, soft kisses for a while, loosely tangled together in bed until Patrik’s stomach growls and Nikolaj breaks away to laugh at him. 

“Perhaps we should eat first,” Nikolaj suggests, voice mild but laughter dancing behind his blue eyes.

“Perhaps,” Patrik says, but he kisses Nikolaj one more time before climbing out of bed to light the fire. 

They eat breakfast in comfortable silence, ankles looped together underneath the table. Patrik catches Nikolaj watching him, food paused halfway to his mouth, and raises his eyebrows. Nikolaj scowls at him and takes a vengeful bite of his bread, but he does a poor job of pretending to be angry. 

Nikolaj has dirt smudged on his cheeks—apparently he had been flying blindly and had ended up tangled in a tree before crashing through the ice of a pond. He had dragged himself out through frozen mud and flown back on weakened wings, stopping when he saw Patrik and the bear. So Patrik insists they collect buckets of snow and heat the water until it is boiling, then pour it into the large wooden basin that Patrik uses in the winter when washing in streams and lakes becomes impossible.

He scrubs himself off first, since he is not really all that dirty, then shoves Nikolaj in despite his protests. He has to laugh at the sight of Nikolaj, drenched and frowning, then Nikolaj splashes water at him and they end up soaking the floor around the basin. Still, they’re both cleaner for it, especially after Patrik makes Nikolaj use some of his mother’s soap. 

They wrap themselves in blankets and curl up on the floor beside the fire to dry. Nikolaj rests his head against Patrik’s shoulder and Patrik laces their fingers together. He feels warmth blossom in his chest and spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. To hide the stupid expression he is certain is on his face, he presses a kiss to the top of Nikolaj’s head, right beside one of his horns, and takes a deep breath.

Nikolaj’s hair smells clean from his reluctant washing but underneath the soap, Patrik can smell all the scents of the woods; pine and bark, sap and snow, all the scents that cling to Nikolaj’s skin no matter how much bathing he does.

“You smell nice,” Patrik says, voice muffled into Nikolaj’s hair. Nikolaj shakes with quiet laughter, pulling his hand free from Patrik’s and crawling into his lap. He pushes his face against the side of Patrik’s neck, nose tucked into the soft spot under his jaw.

“Mmm.” Nikolaj mouths at Patrik’s throat. “So do you.” Patrik stiffens as Nikolaj opens his mouth, setting the points of his canines against Patrik’s skin. 

“Careful,” Patrik whispers, raising his hands to Nikolaj’s hips. Nikolaj sits back against Patrik’s thighs, an amused sort of smirk on his face. He winds his arms around the back of Patrik’s neck, then leans in close enough to rest their foreheads together.

“I wouldn’t really,” Nikolaj says, his voice barely louder than a breath. Patrik squeezes his hips, then runs his hands up Nikolaj’s back to rub the skin where it joins with his wings. Nikolaj shivers. His wings feel taut as Patrik carefully strokes over them, trembling as though he is trying very hard not to move them and accidentally break anything. Patrik memorizes the feeling of delicate bones and thin skin, and the power beneath it all.

Finished with his wings, Patrik moves his hands to Nikolaj’s hair, running his fingers through the still-damp strands. Nikolaj closes his eyes and Patrik curls a hand loosely around one of Nikolaj’s horns, tracing its shape before cupping Nikolaj’s face and pulling him into a kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Patrik mumbles against Nikolaj’s mouth. Nikolaj clutches at his shoulders, the very tips of his claws pricking against his skin.

“Wait.” Nikolaj pulls back slowly, his face flushed and hair sticking up in strange directions from Patrik playing with it. Patrik studies his face, curious. Nikolaj avoids his eyes and stares in the general direction of Patrik’s collarbones. “I should….” He trails off, still studying Patrik’s chest as though there is something new there.

Patrik digs his thumbs into Nikolaj’s hip bones, hoping to prompt him to speak again. 

“Niky?” he asks. “What is it?”

Nikolaj looks embarrassed, red staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

“This is your fault,” Nikolaj says. Patrik blinks.

“What did I do?” Patrik asks, confused by the abrupt change in tone. He loosens his hands around Nikolaj’s hips, feeling uncertain. 

“You made me fall in love with a  _ human,” _ Nikolaj snaps, scowling at Patrik. Then his eyes widen as though he never meant to say that. “I—”

Patrik does not even think about his own answer.

“I love you,” he tells Nikolaj, his voice firm. He catches Nikolaj’s chin and tilts his face up to make eye contact. Nikolaj smiles, wavering and unsure. “What a pair we make,” he adds, in an effort to make Nikolaj smile properly. “The demon who fell in love with a human and the human who loves him back.” Finally, Nikolaj smiles his true smile, bright and happy and sharp. “Much better,” Patrik says before pulling Nikolaj into a kiss.

“Hmm.” Nikolaj tips his head back and lets Patrik press a line of kisses down his throat, finally sucking a mark onto his collarbone. Nikolaj curls a hand around the back of Patrik’s head, fingers tight in Patrik’s hair. His breathing speeds up and Patrik rests a hand against his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly. 

He feels so  _ alive.  _

Everything about Nikolaj is warm now, not the scorched heat of the night he had fallen and not the awful cold of his frozen death. His skin is warm and flushed underneath Patrik’s hands, his mouth hot against Patrik’s. He twists in Patrik’s lap, trying to get some friction on his cock. Patrik tightens his grip on Nikolaj’s hips, making him gasp.

“Hold on,” Patrik says, waiting long enough for Nikolaj to look at him in confusion before standing up, hands under Nikolaj’s thighs. 

Nikolaj squeaks, immediately looking embarrassed at the noise. He tightens his grip on Patrik’s shoulders as Patrik walks them to the bed and dumps Nikolaj gracelessly into the blankets. 

Frowning, Nikolaj watches Patrik fumble for the small wooden box that he keeps under his bed. He sits up, watching as Patrik flicks open the iron clasp. 

Inside, there are a few items of value. A small handful of silver coins, a finely forged dagger that Patrik was gifted on his sixteenth birthday, a coal drawing of his mother and sister, and a small glass bottle that Patrik acquired from a group of southern traders in exchange for a wolf pelt. Patrik picks up the bottle and joins Nikolaj on the bed.

“What is it?” Nikolaj asks.

“I got it last year,” Patrik explains. “The traders claimed it was of Roman make.” He shrugs. “I do not know how much truth was in their statement, but the oil makes some things easier.” Nikolaj tilts his head, then almost kicks Patrik when he drags his fingers up Nikolaj’s inner thigh.

“Oh,” Nikolaj says, voice wavering. He swallows hard and looks up at Patrik with wide, trusting eyes. “I trust you,” he says. It sounds like _ I love you.  _

Patrik crawls between Nikolaj’s legs to kiss him again, careful not to lean on Nikolaj’s sprawling wings. 

“Try to hold your wings still,” Patrik murmurs, kissing the spot under Nikolaj’s ear that makes him shiver. He kisses down Nikolaj’s chest, his belly, then grabs hold of Nikolaj’s hips and takes his cock into his mouth. 

Patrik has not really done this a lot, a handful of times when traders happen to pass through the village or even before then, when he and his friends were young and bored. So, he is not that skilled in the practice, but he must be good enough because the sound Nikolaj makes is  _ very _ gratifying. 

There’s a fluttery noise above him, and Patrik guesses that Nikolaj is trying very hard and failing to keep himself grounded. It is difficult to smirk around a cock, but Patrik does his best anyway, then closes his eyes and presses forward. 

Nikolaj’s noises would be alarming in their intensity if it weren’t for the way he keeps interrupting himself to bossily tell Patrik to  _ do that again,  _ or ask him for more. Patrik pulls away at last, stroking a thumb over the jut of Nikolaj’s hip while they both catch their breath. 

“I like that,” Nikolaj says, unexpectedly shy. His face is flushed with arousal, but Patrik would bet his last silver that he’s blushing, too. 

“Can I try something else?” Patrik asks. Nikolaj nods. “Tell me if you don’t like it.” Patrik takes Nikolaj behind the knees and bends his legs back until he’s practically folded in half. He knows Nikolaj is flexible enough for it and is not concerned that he’ll be hurt, so he holds Nikolaj there and ducks down to lick over his hole. 

“Nngh,” Nikolaj says, and when Patrik glances up at him, his eyes flutter shut and he tips his head back, his neck arching temptingly. Patrik ignores the temptation. He  _ did _ say he was going to try this, and he is going to do it properly.

Patrik may have been imagining this since he got Nikolaj cleaned up, the way he is so soft and warm and opens so easily for him. He keeps going, licking into Nikolaj and occasionally pausing to mouth at his cock while Nikolaj shakes apart beneath him, then he drizzles some of the oil over his fingers and slides one into Nikolaj’s hole. 

The taste of the oil is bitter, so he returns to lick and bite at Nikolaj’s throat while he bends his wrist awkwardly to reach. Nikolaj takes Patrik’s face in both hands, kissing him desperately to muffle his own noises as Patrik slips a second finger inside him, then a third, then he draws them out slowly.

Nikolaj shivers. Patrik tries to be quick but thorough as pours oil into his palm and spreads it onto his cock. He holds himself over Nikolaj, kissing him slowly while pushing into him even slower. He pauses every few seconds, checking Nikolaj’s face for any discomfort, but Nikolaj just squeezes his shoulder and tells him to keep going.

By the time his hips are pressed against Nikolaj’s ass, both of them are breathless. Patrik mouths at Nikolaj’s jaw, eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming feeling of Nikolaj hot and slick around him. Slowly, Patrik opens his eyes to Nikolaj’s expression of shock, wide eyed and open mouthed, his chest rising and falling quickly. Patrik strokes his thumb over Nikolaj’s cheekbone.

“Niky,” he whispers.

“Move,” Nikolaj says, like the word has been punched out of him, and Patrik does.

Nikolaj makes a high-pitched noise when Patrik rolls his hips, then tightens his legs around Patrik’s waist and pulls him in faster, rocking back to meet him the next time.

“You want it fast?” Patrik asks, raising an amused eyebrow and stopping his motion, keeping Nikolaj in place with a tight grip on his hips. 

“We can do it slow next time,” Nikolaj bites out, twisting in place like he wants Patrik to move again. “Today, I want—” Nikolaj breaks off with a gasp as Patrik draws back before thrusting back in, hard, and then Nikolaj does not speak much at all.

He is able to manage Patrik’s name as he grasps uselessly for purchase against his back, still trying so hard not to scratch him, but besides that he is mostly incoherent. Patrik thinks he catches a few snatches of words in Nikolaj’s unfamiliar language, but he does not recognize any phrases.

He understands this idea of  _ Intertwined.  _ Right now, he can hardly tell where he ends and where Nikolaj begins.

Patrik feels heat building slowly in his belly, licking up his spine, and he gets a hand around one of Nikolaj’s horns and pulls his head back to bite a mark into the soft skin of his throat. Nikolaj presses his fingers to the red spot when Patrik is satisfied, closing his eyes and pushing into the mark as though he wants to be reminded that it’s there.

Shifting slightly as his legs start to cramp, Patrik hitches Nikolaj’s hips up slightly. Something seems to go very right, judging by the sound Nikolaj makes, so Patrik keeps him there and works to keep that angle until Nikolaj tenses underneath him and comes without a hand on his cock, shuddering as Patrik continues to fuck him.

“Nikolaj,” Patrik breathes, kissing one of his cheekbones, “I love you.”

Nikolaj is dazed and limp, but he arches his back slowly into Patrik’s thrusts.

“I love you,” he mumbles, and his voice may be hoarse and ragged, but it is the best thing Patrik has ever heard. Patrik kisses him hard and pushes deep one last time as he comes, working his hips slightly to chase the feeling before slowly pulling out.

Neither of them speak for a long moment, still trying to catch their breath. Nikolaj makes a disgruntled noise and rolls over so he’s lying on top of Patrik, his wings forming a leathery cocoon.

“How do you feel?” Patrik asks as Nikolaj tucks his face into Patrik’s neck and shifts around until he finds a position more comfortable for his hips.

“Why did you have to—um. Inside,” Nikolaj asks, and Patrik thinks that he may be shameless and demanding while fucking, but afterwards, he is as shy as a young milkmaid.

Patrik rubs at his lower back comfortingly.

“I’m sorry,” Patrik says. “I should have asked.”

“I liked it,” Nikolaj blurts, and he pushes his face even harder against Patrik’s neck.

“Oh,” Patrik says, surprised, and he smiles. “You don’t need to be embarrassed.” He kisses Nikolaj’s hair, and the hand on Nikolaj’s back slides lower and lower.

“Oh,” Nikolaj says. Then,  _ “oh." _

They don’t speak much for the rest of that day. 

* * *

When the thaw comes, it comes quickly. Hunting becomes easier, they are able to go outside without their furs, and it seems as though the trees are green again in no time at all. Nikolaj spends more and more time outside, lying in the new grass or dipping his feet into the clear, cold waters of the streams and lakes. He chases birds through the air sometimes, laughing as they squawk at him in outrage. 

Most days, he tumbles into bed with Patrik still smiling from the exhilaration of flying.

Patrik spends a lot of time in the woods as well, helping Nikolaj build his small cottage. They work together for hours, shaping logs and setting foundations beside the lake.

Sometimes, Patrik catches Nikolaj looking wistfully at the small plants that sprout in the underbrush, like he wishes he could grow them. Patrik makes him a wooden box and fills it with good soil and a few flowering plants. The smile on Nikolaj’s face makes the prickles from the thistle bush he stepped into worth it. 

Nikolaj puts the box in his windowsill when the cottage is finished in the early weeks of summer.

They furnish it slowly and start to spend almost as much time there as they do at Patrik’s home, but most of their time they spend together in the woods. Usually, they aren’t even hunting, though Patrik always brings something back to the village to show for his absence.

By the time the leaves have started to turn again, the cottage is complete. Nikolaj refuses to spend the nights there unless Patrik stays with him.

The months of peace lull them both into a foolish sense of security, and that is when disaster strikes. 

Nikolaj is at the lake, trying to teach himself how to fish while Patrik helps repair some fencing at Sami’s farm on the other side of the village. 

Patrik has just stood up to admire his handiwork, Sami jogging across the field to inspect it, then blinding pain shoots through Patrik and he doubles over, clutching at his head.

“Patrik?” Sami calls, alarm in his voice, and he sprints across the remaining stretch of grass to kneel beside Patrik, looking at him frantically. “Are you alright?”

Shaking his head only makes Patrik feel like he’s going to vomit. 

“Something is wrong,” Patrik manages, and staggers to his feet with a great effort. He tries to shake off the residual pain—it is not  _ his _ pain, this he knows beyond any doubt—and he runs.

“Patrik!” Sami shouts, but Patrik ignores him.

He stops only once, to take his bow and a full quiver from his house. He takes the knife from under the bed as well, and he runs into the forest.

Patrik ignores the burning in his chest, leaps over roots and stones without ever needing to look, and focuses instead on trying to feel for Nikolaj. He is not dead, because Patrik would know, he  _ would, _ but if he gets to the cottage and Nikolaj is gone then Patrik may go mad.

He slows to a walk and nocks an arrow as he approaches the cottage, preparing to loose at anything that moves and is not Nikolaj. Patrik stops below one window, keeping out of sight. There are voices inside.

“Sebastian,” and that’s Nikolaj, he is  _ alive, _ “please, don’t, ple—” Nikolaj breaks off with a cry and something inside shatters.

“You betrayed us,” someone says. A woman, this time. “You  _ humiliated _ us.”

“Caroline,” Nikolaj says, his voice so shattered that Patrik can hardly tell if he heard him correctly. “You know what they would do to me. I couldn’t go back, I can’t—”

“Shut up,” a man says. Patrik curses inwardly.  _ Two? _ He does not like his odds. “You only made it worse by running away.” 

Nikolaj laughs, a wet, broken sound.

“I would have been killed had I returned immediately,” Nikolaj says. “I thought you might forget about me if I ran far enough.”

“You were our brother, Niko,” the woman, Caroline, says. “We could not forget. We might have let you stay here in your forest if you had not been so stupid as to find your other.” 

“Oh,” Nikolaj says. “No, no, you can’t,  _ please.” _ He sobs on the last word, and Patrik breaks, running for the door and bursting inside.

In the split second before Sebastian throws him back outside, Patrik takes in the interior of what had, just this morning, been a comfortable room, full of light and every inch of wood touched with care.

The furniture is splintered, with little use beyond kindling now. Glass is broken and scattered across the floor. Deep scars are carved into the walls and floors. The flower box is broken, dirt spilling onto the floor and the colourful flowers limp and ruined. 

Nikolaj is crumpled on the floor, blood smeared around him and his face battered and bruised. One of his wings looks broken, twisted in a way that should not be. Worst of all, one of his horns has been broken in half, Caroline holding the end in her hand.

Caroline and Sebastian both  _ look  _ like Nikolaj, sharp faced and winged with the same horns growing from their light hair, but their blue eyes are glowing and their magic is almost palpable. 

Then Sebastian lifts a hand and Patrik feels something like a punch before he goes flying backwards, hitting the ground hard enough that he blacks out for a split second. Sebastian steps outside, looking at Patrik with the same mild disgust Patrik might direct toward a rat. Caroline follows him, dragging Nikolaj by his hair. 

“We have our orders,” Caroline says impassively, but when she exchanges a look with Sebastian, Patrik thinks the blue glow in their eyes flickers slightly. “Kill the human, then bring you home.” A cold stone settles heavy in Patrik’s stomach as he watches the colour drain from Nikolaj’s face. 

“Leave him alone,” Nikolaj begs. “Please, he has nothing to do with this, take me but leave—” Sebastian slaps him. Four red lines of blood rise on Nikolaj’s face where Sebastian’s claws cut his cheek. 

“Niky,” Patrik says, and three pairs of blue eyes turn to him. Patrik swallows hard. “It’s alright, I promise.” He tries to ignore Nikolaj’s siblings, focusing instead on Nikolaj’s face. “I love you,” he says, his voice as steady as he can make it. 

“Patrik,” Nikolaj says, little more than a whimper. “No.”

Patrik digs his fingers into the earth by his knees, twisting them in the grass and dirt. He levels a look at Sebastian as he steps closer. Nikolaj is crying, his unbroken wing curled around him like he needs something to comfort him. Patrik wishes that he could wrap his arms tightly around Nikolaj and convince him that everything will be alright.

Sebastian raises an arm, claws silhouetted against the sky. 

“I will make it quick,” he says, and that is when Patrik reaches for the forest.

The forest answers. 

Roots burst free of the soil, twisting around Caroline and Sebastian’s ankles and trapping them in place no matter how fiercely they beat their wings. 

“What have you done?” Caroline demands of Nikolaj as he scrambles back. Patrik stands up slowly, feeling as though his entire body is covered in one giant bruise, and limps over to Nikolaj and helps him stand.

“You can kill us,” Sebastian says, “but if you do, our entire army will come here and burn every tree in your wretched country.” He is not speaking to Patrik, but to the trees. Patrik believes him and so do the trees, and slowly the roots slide away from their legs.

Patrik pushes Nikolaj behind him.

Sebastian scoffs, looking between them.

“How sweet,” he says, shaking off the last of the roots, “and how very misguided.” 

“The more you resist, the less merciful we will be,” Caroline warns.

“I can hold them off,” Nikolaj says. “You run and I can stop them until you’re gone.” Nikolaj could not stop a mouse right now. Everyone knows it, including Nikolaj, but the idea that he is useless does not seem to sit well with him. 

“I’m staying with you,” Patrik says, “stupid.” 

Sebastian and Caroline step closer, and Nikolaj and Patrik step back.

“If you have any last words,” Caroline says to Patrik, “now would be the time.” 

“Any good ideas on how to get us out of this?” Patrik asks Nikolaj.

“Nothing good,” Nikolaj says sadly, but then he freezes and Patrik bumps into him. “But I might have a bad one.” He steps in front of Patrik, and holds out his hand. “Wait,” Nikolaj says. “I have a proposal for you.”

“We do not take suggestions from traitors,” Sebastian snaps, but Patrik sees doubt in both of their eyes.

“Take away my magic,” Nikolaj says. “All of it.”

“But,” Caroline frowns, “you would be human.”

“I would be mortal,” Nikolaj says. He holds out his hands. “I will die slowly and painfully, like you want.” He tilts his head toward Patrik. “We both will.”

Patrik can’t hear anything over the ringing that had started in his ears at the word  _ mortal.  _

“You think our superiors will accept this?” Sebastian scoffs. “You are a fool.”

“You have my horn,” Nikolaj says. “Tell them I fought and died and that my horn was all you could recover.”

“You beg for your life, but you will be dead soon enough anyway,” Caroline says. “It is better to die a warrior’s death.”

“Executions are not warriors’ deaths,” Nikolaj spits. “I would rather spend one human lifetime with Patrik than live the rest of my days alone.” Nikolaj reaches out and takes Patrik’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “The forest will help you,” Nikolaj says. He looks at his siblings beseechingly. “Please,” he whispers, “for the love you once bore me, if nothing else.”

Caroline’s eyes dim and darken first, but Sebastian is not far behind, lowering his wings.

“You would never fly again,” Sebastian says.

“What’s the point in flying if I am alone in the sky?” Nikolaj challenges. He drops Patrik’s hand and steps forward.

For a heartbeat, Patrik fears that Caroline and Sebastian will snatch Nikolaj up and fly away. Then he hears them speaking to the trees. Or rather, he feels it. He senses the intent, the emotion of the conversation, and the wind that blew on the night Nikolaj died starts to blow again.

Sebastian and Caroline join hands, raising their free hands to point at Nikolaj as their eyes blaze with blue fire.

The light grows so bright that Patrik has no choice but to cover his eyes, and when the light fades Sebastian and Caroline are gone. For a heart-stopping instant, he thinks Nikolaj is gone, too.

Then he sees him.

Nikolaj has fallen to the ground, crumpled and so, so small. The first thing Patrik notices is that his wings are gone. When he kneels beside Nikolaj, his horns are gone as well, nothing more than fluffy blond hair on his head.

“Niky,” he murmurs, a lump rising in his throat at what Nikolaj did for him.

“Hm?” Nikolaj’s face scrunches and he blinks awake, looking up at Patrik. “Oh,” he says softly. His eyes fill with sudden tears and he shakes, clinging to Patrik as he mourns what he has lost.

His nails are short and rounded where he grips Patrik’s shirt, and his canines are still sharp but not abnormally long. Patrik holds him tight and pets his hair until he stops crying.

“I’ll be alright,” Nikolaj says, voice thick. “I just—I will never fly again.” He looks up at Patrik, his lower lip wobbling.

“You’re human now,” Patrik says, “but you’re still  _ you.  _ And I love you.” He takes one of Nikolaj’s hands. “I know I can’t give you back your wings,” Patrik says, “but I will be here for you for as long as you want me to be.”

“Thank you.” Nikolaj’s voice is quiet. “I don’t know how to be a human,” he admits. “I don’t know how to be anything other than what I was.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Patrik says. He helps Nikolaj stand. “I will show you how.” Nikolaj sways on his feet, looking exhausted and unsteady. Patrik holds out a hand. “Will you let me?” 

Nikolaj takes his hand, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Yes,” Nikolaj says.

Together, they return to the ruined cottage and start to put the pieces back where they belong.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:
> 
> \- nikolaj and patrik are sort of trying to kill each other for the first little while
> 
> \- mentioned torture
> 
> \- if you're sensitive to animal death, there are a couple hunting scenes and a scene where they skin a rabbit
> 
> \- nikolaj dies? but he comes back so it's okay
> 
> \- nikolaj gets beat up real bad
> 
> \- threats of murder minus the banter 
> 
> i finished this at like 4 in the morning so if the ending sucks, sorryyyyy
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


End file.
